Lace and Leather
by Beansprout-Ninja
Summary: /This was not how he spent his Saturdays; that was a fact. Usually, at this time, he'd be dueling some arrogant opponent who had no idea who he was f*cking with. It didn't matter now. Not when he was stuck doing… this./ YYxY


This was not how he spent his Saturdays; that was a fact. Usually, at this time, he'd be dueling some arrogant opponent who had no idea who he was f*cking with. He was the King of Games; hadn't they seen his sexy self on television? He was _always_ on the card game channel.

He could've prevented this. He could've challenged someone, like maybe Yami Bakura, or even that Egyptian tomb keeper with the nice abs. What was his name again..?

It didn't matter now. Not when he was stuck doing… this.

Why was he here anyways?

Oh, that's right. This was that asshole of a CEO's fault.

Yami clenched his fists and gritted his teeth together. This was the absolute last time he would ever do any sort of deal with that asshole.

Hadn't Yugi warned him against accepting that drinking bet? He had always said that spending so many years in Yugi's body would weaken his alcohol tolerance.

He didn't know that it'd weaken his tolerance _that_ much. He had drank what..? Two glasses? Before he was absolutely drunk. Not only had he lost the bet, but now he was stuck in this blindingly lit building with a hangover. Just the dull brown of the inside walls was giving him a migraine.

Yami rubbed his throbbing temple as a loud voice echoed down the hallway. That was it. Next person who spoke didn't deserve a mind-crush like that lady at the front desk; they were getting full-out incinerated by Slifer.

"Is your name Yugi Mutou?"

He blinked at the stranger next to him. His name wasn't Yugi Mutou; it was Yami.

The hangover had slowed his senses and it took him a few minutes to figure out that he still didn't have his own body and that people would recognize him as Yugi until such a miracle occurred.

Yami slowly comprehended the above and eventually figured out how to bob his head in a small nod. The woman standing at his side nodded in return and wrapped a hand around his wrist, forcing him to sprint down the hallway.

"You're late. We were about to start without you, Mr. Mutou."

She pushed open the door to what Yami assumed was their destination and shoved Yami inside.

"The dressing rooms are to your left. Just pick one and someone will come and dress you. I suggest you hurry; my supervisor doesn't have patience for those tardy to their appointments."

Her head disappeared and Yami listened to the click of her heels as she walked away.

So… where was he going?

Yami remembered her instructions and stumbled in an attempt to turn towards the left side of the room. Gods, he really shouldn't have chugged those glasses.

Eventually, he made it to a dressing room and, just as the woman said, someone quickly appeared to assist him in his hazy, intoxicated state of mind.

He was stripped down and forced into something that fit him in the most of uncomfortable of places. He opened his mouth to protest, but he was dragged and pushed into another room before he could even slur reasonable-sounding syllables.

Bright flashes blinded his blurred eyesight and he held up a hand to block the light.

"Someone, remove his hand away from his eyes!"

His hand was seized and tied with its twin.

The flashing continued and Yami remained blinded, no longer able to shield himself with the beauty of darkness.

'_How much longer is this going to take?'_

It was a living hell; that is, if Yami could be even be considered to be alive. He was, after all, a dead spirit of a pharaoh living inside the body of a vertically-challenged teenage boy.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Mutou? You look a little…" The photographer, a young man in his early twenties, observed his client with interest. "You look a little uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable? If he had known that bending in ways his body was not made to was uncomfortable, he would've said something about it before. Not that the thong he was wearing was any more pleasant.

"No, no. I'm fine. Please. Continue." The photographer smiled with a brilliant exuberance and continued snapping photos.

Yami sighed. He almost wished that he wasn't such a talented liar.

"Mr. Mutou? I need to undress you." Yami wove his some-what free hand in a nonchalant gesture. "Do whatever pleases you."

Yami's face was the image of calm. His expression said, "I'm too sexy to star in a porn magazine, but I'll do just for kicks," while his common sense was screaming, "WHAT THE HELL? THIS DESERVES A MIND-CRUSH!"

The woman winked with a flirtatious smile that made him sick. Surely she was mistaken? What he understood was that only gay men starred in these porn magazines.

Well, he was bisexual, but that wasn't that point.

Her fingers drifted down his spine, slowly wandering to the hem of his undergarments. She missed it and brushed his… ahem… _prize_.

Molesting from a stranger was a bit unpleasant, but it was worse from a woman.

_/Yami? Are you alright?/_

F*ck.

Yugi had passed out before Yami and Kaiba had finished the drinking bet. He didn't know that Yami had been forced to star in a porn magazine. And, unfortunately, Yugi had felt that last shiver.

_/Where are we? This doesn't look like my bedroom./_

Yami clenched his jaw. He would not give the woman at his knees the satisfaction of getting a reaction from him.

_/Nowhere, aibou./_

Yami quickly stood up, pushed the female away, and strutted out of the room. Shoving on his pants and jacket, Yami stomped out of the building.

_/What's going on?/_

_/Nothing aibou. Go back to sleep./_

Yugi shrugged and drifted back into unconsciousness. Yami breathed a deep sigh of relief. It would be easy to keep this forever a secret from Yugi. He would never know; Yami was pretty sure his innocent little lover didn't buy porn magazines.

* * *

><p><em>A Few Days Later...<em>

"Yami?"

Yami paused from making his and Yugi's lunch. It was Yugi's favorite: hamburgers. "Yes?"

"Is there any reason that your picture is on the front cover of this month's issue of Playgirl?"

Yami's face burned a dark red. Fuck; he wading in deep, muddy trouble now. How was he going to-

Wait a second.

"You buy Playgirl issues?"

* * *

><p>Get it? Instead of Playboy (made for men) I created Playgirl (made for women)?<p>

I'm such a genius.

Review if you wish. I understand you may be just a bit emotionally scarred.

However, those who review get a free issue. ;D

-The one and only,

Beansprout-Ninja ^-^


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